


A Bed For Two

by intouchwithhumanity



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier-centric, First Kiss, Fluff, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Holiday, Love, M/M, Mike Hanlon Deserves Nice Things, Mike Hanlon is a Good Friend, Minor Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Minor Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Past Bill Denbrough/Beverly Marsh, Pining, Reddie, Reddie Fluff, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Sassy Stanley Uris, Secret Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Richie Tozier, Weekend Away, light smut but nothing graphic, weekend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-02 07:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21158051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intouchwithhumanity/pseuds/intouchwithhumanity
Summary: The Losers go on a weekend away or: the one where Richie and Eddie share a bed for a few nights.





	1. It's Coincidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Friday night and the Losers have driven to a cabin beyond Derry's borders. When Stan announces the sleeping arrangements, Eddie panics at the prospect of sharing a bed with Richie, his best friend, worst nightmare and hopeless crush.

_FRIDAY NIGHT_

Stan had organised it, but it had been Bill’s idea. A trip away, a weekend in the middle of nowhere in a complex of cabins near a number of activity centres: rock-climbing, high-wire, water sports on a large lake. It seemed perfect.

Since Bill and Bev were now both able to drive, they’d ferried in two cars on the Friday evening after school. It was dark by the time they arrived, and they all were tired enough to agree on an early first night, so they were best rested for the weekend ahead.

‘So,’ Stan stated as he slung his backpack onto the kitchen table, ‘we have this floor for me, Bill, Richie and Eddie. Then Mike, Ben and Bev have upstairs.’

‘Cool,’ Mike nodded.

‘Goodnight, guys,’ Bev hollered, starting to make her way upstairs.

‘See you down here in the morning,’ Ben said, and with that, the three disappeared.

Stan wandered down the corridor. ‘It’s two double rooms down here. So, Bill and I will take this one and you two take the other one?’

Eddie went pale, his eyes stoic. Richie eyed him, brow furrowed.

‘Works for me.’ Bill shrugged, hauling his packed gym bag over his shoulder and into the room.

‘Double as in,’ Eddie swallowed, ‘sharing a bed?’

‘Yeah,’ Stan said. ‘Is that a problem?’

‘No,’ Eddie squeaked, then coughed. ‘No, it’s fine.’

‘Okay, good, because it’s not like there’s another option.’ Stan chuckled, ‘Unless you want the floor.’

‘Can’t argue with that.’

‘Goodnight, guys,’ Stan said, then disappeared into his room, carefully closing the door.

Richie and Eddie walked into their room. It was small, almost completely consumed by the double bed which sat under the window. Eddie shut the door with a click, then put his bag down on the bed.

‘Are you alright sharing a room with me?’ Richie asked carefully. The question penetrated the silence heavily.

‘Yeah,’ Eddie said quickly. ‘Of course. Why?’

‘Well, when Stan said it, you kinda looked like you wanted to kill someone. Or maybe,’ he cocked his head, ‘that you were having a stroke.’

‘Ouch,’ Eddie spluttered. ‘Well, I’m fine.’

‘You sure?’

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘I don’t know. That’s why I asked.’ Richie shuffled, ‘So, we’re good?’

‘Yeah, we’re good,’ Eddie smiled weakly, sitting down on the edge of the bed to unlace his shoes.

‘I’ve,’ Richie began, then stopped.

‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ he shook his head, kicking off his sneakers.

‘No, go on,’ Eddie pressed.

Richie didn’t look at him. ‘I’ve missed you a bit. Lately.’

‘I haven’t been anywhere,’ Eddie said, but his heart twanged.

‘No, I know, it’s just like,’ he struggled, ‘like you’ve been distant.’

‘Distant?’ Eddie tried to sound surprised.

‘Yeah.’

‘Oh.’

‘I just,’ Richie put his hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders up, ‘want to know you’re okay.’

Eddie caught his eye. His chest squeezed, guilt trickling through him. ‘I’m okay,’ he said softly.

‘And we’re okay?’ Richie checked.

‘You already asked that.’

‘I know,’ Richie sighed. ‘I just wasn’t sure if I believed it.’

Eddie clenched his jaw. Richie simultaneously knew him too well and hardly at all. Eddie was okay with Richie; he was always okay with Richie. Too okay. That was the problem. Still, he promised, ‘We’re good. Really.’

Richie twitched his nose, unconvinced. ‘Okay.’

Eddie changed the subject, ‘Which side of the bed do you want?’

Richie skirted past him. ‘I’ll take the left. I know you like to sleep nearer the door.’

Eddie raised his eyebrows. ‘I do. Thanks.’

‘What?’ Richie asked, scouring Eddie’s expression.

‘I just didn’t realise you remembered that. It’s been a long time since we’ve shared a bed.’ Eddie thought about how awkward it had been the first time Richie had come around to his bedroom and spotted the spare mattress on the floor. His mother had put it up. He flushed thinking about it.

‘You used to say it about six hundred times, so,’ Richie rolled his eyes, unbuttoning his shirt.

Eddie deliberately turned around so that he didn’t stare at Richie undressing. He pulled off his own shirt, ‘You are twenty percent less likely to be injured during an intrusion if you sleep nearer to a door.’

Richie shimmied on his pyjama bottoms. ‘That is straight-up bullshit.’

Eddie whipped his head around, ‘No, it isn’t!’

Richie took off his glasses and hopped onto the bed, ‘It’s coincidence.’

Eddie huffed. ‘Well, when someone intrudes, we’ll see who’s right.’

Richie smirked, ‘I guess so.’ He slid under the duvet and rolled onto his side, facing towards Eddie.

Eddie peeled back the corner of the blanket and scurried inside. The bed wasn’t wide; he could feel the heat of Richie’s body laying next to him, his weight on the mattress. ‘Goodnight, Rich,’ he said, flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

Richie looked at his face in profile, the face he felt he’d memorised enough to draw on a thousand canvases. What had started out as a harmless crush in middle school had only blossomed as the years had gone by, and Richie had stopped lying to himself about how he felt.

That didn’t mean he felt he could tell Eddie the truth. He just let it exist these days. He didn’t try to get rid of it anymore. He just assumed that it was what it was, and so it might always be. It hurt, but he had made some peace with it, as long as Eddie was in his life.

‘Goodnight, Eds.’ Richie closed his eyes.

Eddie’s head flopped to the side, eyes narrowed, ‘Don’t call me Eds.’

Richie opened one eye and smirked, ‘Goodnight, Spaghetti.’

Eddie hummed, ‘Maybe I don’t want to share a room after all.’

Richie shoved him, ‘Mean.’

‘No nicknames, then.’ Eddie insisted.

‘You literally just called me Rich.’ Richie pointed out, smug.

Eddie scoffed, rolling to face Richie, ‘That’s basically your name.’

‘And Eds isn’t?’

‘Oh, fuck you,’ Eddie screwed up his face, unable to explain the difference.

‘Eddie is a nickname, essentially,’ Richie continued. ‘Should I call you Edward?’

‘Richie, I swear to God,’ Eddie warned.

‘It’s Richard,’ Richie said, in a phoney English accent.

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh, ‘You are not a fucking Richard.’

He loved it when Richie made him laugh, but he hated how easy it was for Richie to do. He loved the stupid, satisfied look which spread cross Richie’s face, but he hated how it made his own eyes brighten, lips widen, heartstrings tighten.

Richie chuckled, ‘I’m really not, am I?’

There it was; Richie could see it. Eddie was back in the room, relaxing, acting normal. The sparkle was back in his eyes. Richie loved that he could make it appear if he tried hard enough. He looked at the dimples in Eddie’s glowing cheeks, the curve of his lips as he smiled.

‘Not at all,’ Eddie blinked slowly, his eyes scanning the freckles dotted over Richie’s nose. He wasn’t often so close to his face that he could count them. They were in a thousand different colours and sizes.

Richie smiled, ‘Goodnight, Eduardo.’

Sighing, Eddie closed his eyes, ‘Goodnight, Ricardo.’

‘Good one.’ Richie bit his lip. Eddie looked so different when he was sleepy, when he had his eyes shut. Gentle, pretty, even. He had such long eyelashes; that was part of it. There was no tension in his jawline, no tautness in his temples.

Eddie smirked, ‘Shut the fuck up and go to sleep.’


	2. You Know It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday morning comes and Richie finds something worth teasing Eddie about, that also makes his heart flutter.

_SATURDAY MORNING_

When Richie woke, he was facing the wall. His eyes failed him without his glasses. It was silent, apart from Eddie’s steady breathing behind him, directly behind him, on his neck. He became aware of the dead weight on his waist; Eddie’s arm draped over him.

‘Eddie?’ he murmured, just barely touching Eddie’s hand. He didn’t stir, so he grazed up his arm, ‘Eddie?’

Eddie groaned, ‘What?’ In his doze, he stretched, cat-like. His chin knocked at Richie’s spine, his toes dragged up Richie’s calves. Suddenly, he became alert, hideously alert. ‘Oh, fuck.’ He said as he snatched his arm away and wriggled backwards. ‘Sorry.’

Richie blinked and rolled over, propping up on his elbows. He wiped the sleep from the corners of his eyes. ‘It’s okay. I mean, you were unconscious.’

‘Still, I,’ Eddie spluttered, flustered.

‘Eddie, really,’ Richie widened his eyes. ‘Relax. It’s fine.’ It was more than fine. Not that Richie could admit that.

‘I know, it’s just,’ Eddie grimaced, cheeks reddening, ‘embarrassing.’

Richie shrugged, ‘Don’t be embarrassed.’

‘Oh,’ Eddie dropped his mouth open sarcastically, ‘Oh, just don’t be! Gee, thanks. Well that fucking worked.’ His eyelids lowered as Richie laughed at him. ‘Dick.’

Richie cooed, ‘Oh, that’s not me being a dick.’ He edged closer.

Eddie put his hand up, ‘Richie, don’t you fucking dare.’

Richie lunged, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist and yanking him close.

Eddie squirmed, ‘Oh, fuck off!’

‘Thought you wanted a cuddle?’ Richie teased.

‘Absolutely fucking not!’ Eddie lied.

‘You started it,’ Richie said, ‘not me.’

Eddie stopped wriggling, pinned by Richie’s embrace. He was glad that Richie couldn’t see his face. Low, he grumbled, ‘I am going to kill you for this.’

Richie’s lips hovered over his ear, ‘Oh, don’t be so dramatic.’

Eddie shivered. Sometimes, when their bodies were close like this, when Richie’s voice dropped or their gazes locked, Eddie could swear he felt something zap between them, like static electricity. He became hyper-aware of Richie’s contact on his skin, his words fell with more weight, his eyes bored into his skull, drilling.

Outside, Stan knocked on the door and hollered, ‘Everybody up!’ but Richie and Eddie didn’t move.

‘Rich, are you gonna let go now?’ Eddie asked softly.

‘Five more minutes,’ Richie whined, squeezing.

‘Jerk,’ Eddie sighed, but a smile spread across his face.

‘That’s me,’ Richie said, then snaked his arms away.

Eddie tried not to feel too disappointed that Richie had been joking. ‘Alright, let’s get up.’

_SATURDAY NIGHT_

Richie flopped onto the bed, face down. ‘I’m fucking exhausted,’ he moaned into the pillow.

‘Me too.’ Eddie agreed, collapsing beside him.

Richie twisted his neck so that he could see Eddie. His face was distorted by the pressure of the pillow beneath it. ‘Good day though.’

‘Yeah, it was,’ Eddie grinned.

Eddie had really enjoyed himself. Hanging around with Richie again, letting himself relax around him, he’d settled into an old, familiar rhythm. An easy rhythm. A rhythm he’d recently been trying to break. Maybe it was being out in isolation, away from the pressures of his every day life, but nothing seemed as real, serious or scary as it had seemed in Derry.

‘It feels like ages since we’ve hung out together,’ Richie said. ‘All the Losers, I mean.’

The corners of Eddie’s mouth drooped. ‘I guess it’s harder, now that we’re older.’

‘It’s weird though,’ Richie said, shifting his weight so that he was on his side. ‘We’re all still in Derry.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We only live two minutes down the road from each other,’ Richie shook his head slightly. ‘But we still find it so hard to get together.’

Eddie shrugged, ‘Seven people in one place though, isn’t it? Around high school and clubs and part-time jobs and stuff.’

‘Yeah, but what about,’ Richie trailed off.

‘What?’

Richie’s brow furrowed. ‘In a couple of years, people are gonna go off to college and stuff.’

Eddie didn’t want to think about it. He dismissed, ‘That’s not for ages.’

‘But it will happen.’

Eddie gulped, ‘I guess.’

‘Will we still,’ Richie bit his lip, ‘see each other, do you think?’

Eddie’s stomach twisted. ‘‘We’ as in the Losers or ‘we’ as in you and me?’ he clarified.

‘Both,’ Richie said, as nonchalantly as he could muster.

Eddie blinked, ‘I hope we’ll all still see each other.’

‘And?’ Richie probed the silence.

‘Well, yeah, I hope we do too,’ Eddie said. It hurt even to imply that it was only a possibility, and he knew it would hurt for Richie to hear it. So, he backtracked, needing to tell the truth. ‘Actually, fuck that. We will. I know we will.’

Richie exhaled. He didn’t realise he’d been holding his breath. ‘How?’ he whispered.

Eddie sank into the mattress. ‘Well, you know,’ he breathed, ‘it’s us.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re,’ Eddie started and failed. He tried again, ‘Of all the Losers, you know, you’re –’

‘I’m your favourite?’ Richie finished, smiling.

Eddie scoffed, ‘Fuck off. Don’t put it like that.’

‘But I am, aren’t I?’ he asked.

‘You’re the worst,’ Eddie sighed.

‘I’m the best, apparently,’ Richie beamed. ‘According to you.’

Eddie screwed up his face, ‘Oh, I take it back.’

‘Too late,’ Richie taunted. ‘You’ve said it now.’

Eddie paused for a moment, rolling onto his side, mirroring Richie’s position. Then he said, softly, ‘I didn’t need to say it. You know it anyway.’

Richie felt the warmth inside him, like melted butter. He smiled, ‘Yeah, I do.’ As Eddie locked his gaze, he said, ‘So do you, right?’

Eddie couldn’t say anything else. ‘Yeah. I do.’ 

Richie’s gaze flicked momentarily, looking perplexed, then he reached a hand up and touched Eddie’s hair.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Eddie stammered, frozen.

Richie snorted, ‘Relax. You have a leaf in your hair. I’m just getting it.’

‘Oh,’ Eddie frowned, the thought of a foreign object in his hair making him nauseous. ‘Thanks.’

Richie pulled at the dry, delicate article. It crunched and crumpled, so he had to keep picking. ‘Son of a bitch,’ he muttered.

‘Ow,’ Eddie complained, ‘Don’t mess it up.’

‘We’re in bed,’ Richie said flatly. ‘Who are you trying to impress?’ Then he swiped his hand across Eddie’s head, throwing the hairs off the grain.

‘Oh, fuck you.’ Eddie said, pawing it back down.

Richie reached over again and repeated his offence. ‘What is the big deal?’

Eddie’s face screwed up as he batted Richie’s hands away, ‘Your fingers have destructive oils.’

‘They do not,’ Richie laughed. He managed to dodge Eddie’s defence enough to ruffle a third time.

‘Fuck this,’ Eddie challenged, pushing at Richie’s stomach with his feet as he parried the onslaught of hands. The competition flared in his eyes, the smile slaked broad across his face.

‘Whoa, careful!’ Richie warned, sniggering as he shunted across the mattress.

‘All you have to do is stop,’ Eddie suggested, raising his eyebrows.

Richie paused for about three seconds before going in a final time. Eddie shoved, and Richie crashed out of the bed onto the floor in a heap of giggles. Eddie climbed over to observe the damage, laughing too.

‘Serves you fucking right,’ Eddie managed.

‘Are you gonna help me back up?’ Richie asked, extending a hand.

‘Do it yourself,’ Eddie said, putting his hand under his chin and batting his eyelashes.

Richie scowled, ‘Oh, you are such a bitch.’

Eddie reached for his hand, ‘Here.’ He hauled, and Richie crawled back onto the duvet.

He snuggled under, co-opting the middle portion of the bed. ‘Much better.’

‘Stay on your side,’ Eddie said, annoyed.

Richie threw his arms around Eddie’s waist and whined, ‘But I don’t want to fall out again.’

‘You won’t,’ Eddie rolled his eyes. ‘Get off,’ he said, but he didn’t really mean it.

‘I’m clinging on for dear life.’ Richie cried melodramatically.

‘I’m the reason you fell out in the first place so what kind of fucked up plan is that?’ Eddie countered.

‘This way you’d have to fall off with me.’

‘Oh, that’s better,’ Eddie’s voice was thick with sarcasm. ‘Both of us falling.’

‘Yeah, obviously,’ Richie said.

‘You’re such a fuckwit.’ Eddie muttered, wishing he could lace his fingers with Richie’s, let their legs intertwine, shift backwards ever so slightly so that Richie’s chest was flush against his back.

‘I’m your favourite,’ Richie teased, resting his chin in the crook of Eddie’s neck.

‘God, I hate you,’ Eddie said, with as much deference as he could muster.

‘Night, Eds,’ Richie said quietly. He wondered whether Eddie would try and move away, or if he would let Richie stay where he was, holding him.

Eddie wondered whether Richie would let go, as he had done this morning at Eddie’s behest. If he said nothing about it, maybe Richie would stay where he was, holding him. ‘Night, Rich,’ he whispered.

They both waited for what they each believed was the inevitable separation, but it never came. Eddie stared down at the hands clasped over his stomach. Richie stared at the slope of Eddie’s shoulder, the exposed skin that was close enough to kiss.

Eventually, they both dozed off to sleep.


	3. One of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie feels guilty for sleeping with Eddie in his arms and moves away, but Eddie wakes up.

_SUNDAY MORNING_

Richie woke up from what felt like the most restful sleep of his life. It was unprecedentedly early, and the sun streamed through the cracks in the blinds. Eddie was still in his arms, his breathing slow and regular, asleep. Richie wished he could wake up like this every day.

Still, it started to feel wrong, started to make him feel guilty to keep holding Eddie so consciously. Ashamed, he tried to slide his arm away.

Eddie stirred and groaned, ‘Rich?’

‘Sorry,’ Richie whispered. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you.’ He moved away completely, feeling hollowed out like a pea pod.

Eddie grumbled and curled in on himself. ‘Cold.’

Richie toyed with going back but decided against it. He started to tug at the sheets.

‘Richie, if you rip the blankets away, I swear to God –’ Eddie warned.

Richie blushed, ‘Oh. No, I was,’ he stumbled. ‘There’s an extra one. Here.’ Richie finally managed to tear the comforter out from under the mattress and drape it over Eddie.

‘Oh,’ Eddie said, genuinely surprised, touched. ‘Thanks.’ He rolled over, cocooning in the new layer.

‘You look comfy,’ Richie said smiling, sliding his glasses onto the bridge of his nose as he sat up.

‘What time is it?’ Eddie mumbled.

Richie shrugged, ‘I don’t know. Morning.’

‘Don’t you have a watch?’ Eddie chided.

‘No. I don’t need a watch. It’s always time to fuck your mom, so.’ Richie joked.

‘Fuck you, asshole.’ Eddie frowned.

Richie spotted Eddie’s watch on his end table. He leaned over Eddie’s huddled body to reach for it. Eddie opened his eyes to see Richie’s torso stretching over him, the dark curls across his chest, the outlines of his ribcage and collarbone, the muscle tensing in his upper arm.

‘It’s five thirty,’ Richie said, then put the watch back down and removed his glasses again.

‘Oh, gross. So early.’ Eddie squeezed his eyes shut again.

Richie sank back down under the duvet. He lay there for a while, trying to fall asleep, finding himself staring at Eddie’s face and wishing he could touch it. They were so close to each other, only a few inches separating them. It felt like torture.

‘Eddie?’ Richie whispered.

‘What?’ Eddie groaned quietly.

‘Nothing, I was just seeing if you were still awake.’

‘Yeah, I’m still awake. Just about.’ He shifted position but didn’t open his eyes.

Richie sighed, ‘I can’t get back to sleep.’

Eddie hummed croakily. ‘Something on your mind?’

‘Always,’ Richie said. ‘Your mom mostly.’

Eddie raised a hand and dropped it limply on Richie’s cheek, a feeble slap. ‘Beep beep, Richie.’

Richie smiled dreamily, ‘You’re cute when you’re sleepy.’

Eddie’s face broke into a grin, ‘Shut the fuck up.’

‘Is that a smile?’ Richie asked, shocked, leaning in closer, disbelieving his eyes.

‘What?’ Eddie’s face twitched, and he refuted, ‘No,’ but the smirk stayed on his face, immoveable even though he tried.

‘It is! You’re smiling.’ Richie gasped. ‘Do you secretly like it when I call you cute, Eds?’

Eddie growled and opened one eye, ‘Don’t call me Eds.’

‘You do, don’t you?’ Richie teased. ‘I bet you secretly like the nicknames too, after all.’

‘No,’ Eddie insisted, leaning closer to Richie to hammer the point. ‘I hate those.’

Richie cocked an eyebrow, ‘But not the cute thing?’

Eddie shrugged and smiled, ‘It’s not often you’re nice to me. I’ll take what I can get.’

‘I’m always nice to you.’

Eddie laughed, ‘You’re an asshole to me.’

‘In a nice way,’ Richie countered, trying not to think about how close Eddie’s face was to his own. Closer than it had ever been. ‘Like how you’re an asshole to me.’

Eddie’s gaze slipped momentarily to Richie’s mouth. ‘Who says I’m being nice?’

‘Aren’t you?’ Richie asked quietly, his eyes flicking between Eddie’s, unsure on which he should focus as he shifted his face closer still, so that their noses brushed against each other.

Eddie held his breath as his lips pressed gently against Richie’s. His eyelashes fluttered closed. It only lasted a couple of seconds.

Eddie’s eyes flicked open to meet Richie’s. He looked vaguely scared, vaguely dazed. ‘What was that?’ Eddie asked breathily, hitching.

‘I don’t know,’ Richie said, but he knew well enough. His eyes dipped to Eddie’s parted lips and back again, rapidly, twice, then three times.

Eddie lunged, his lips crashing against Richie’s, hard and heated. Richie kissed back eagerly, his hand sliding around Eddie’s neck to pull him closer. Their brows furrowed, the passion of the kiss somewhat terrifying, a moment so craved and longed for that they hardly knew how to cope with the reality.

Eddie’s fingers trembled as they reached for Richie’s bare chest. He pushed away. Richie’s lips snapped away from his own.

‘What’s happening?’ Eddie stammered. ‘Is this really happening?’

Richie stared in disbelief, scanning every inch of Eddie’s skin, every peak and valley in his face as though he didn’t have them learnt by heart. ‘I think so,’ he said, then leaned in again.

As Eddie keenly accepted his kiss, arms wrapping around his waist to claw at his back, Richie hauled his leg up and over Eddie’s, straddling him, letting his curled hair fall across over his face as it hung above Eddie’s.

‘Stop, stop,’ Eddie said, his words muffled as his lips did not entirely disconnect. ‘What? I,’ he struggled. ‘What are we doing?’

Richie sighed happily, ‘You’re kissing me.’

‘_You’re _kissing _me._’ Eddie corrected. ‘We’re both,’ he started, but was halted as Richie planted another firm, gorgeous kiss. ‘But,’ he said feebly, ‘we’ve never done that before.’

‘I know that, Eds. I’m one of us.’

‘But we’re –’ Eddie started, but was cut off.

‘Friends. Yeah, I know.’ Richie finished, dotting kisses across Eddie’s cheeks.

‘But you’re –’ Eddie was cut off again, gasping as Richie bit at the tender skin on his neck.

‘Gross. Yeah, I know.’

‘No, you’re –’ Eddie tried again, as Richie’s lips once more met his own.

‘A dick?’ Richie queried, then leaned in yet again.

Eddie shifted backwards to avoid it, ‘A boy.’

Richie sighed. ‘Oh. That.’

‘That?’ Eddie spluttered. ‘You’re – I’m –’ he scrambled, unable to finish the sentence even when Richie didn’t encourage him to stop.

‘Yeah. I know.’ Richie said defeatedly.

‘So,’ Eddie lingered on the vowel.

‘So,’ Richie mimicked.

A worry line carved between Eddie’s eyebrows. ‘We should stop?’ he asked.

‘We,’ Richie paused, ‘_could_.’

Richie looked at him, the boy underneath him, where he’d thought about him being a million times or more. He tingled when he thought about the fact he had kissed those lips, kissed his unblemished skin, heard Eddie’s ragged breaths and gasps of pleasure.

Eddie, in turn, looked up at the boy above him, where he’d never had another person lay before, weight heavy and comforting. He couldn’t process that it was Richie: Richie’s eyes so full of desire, Richie’s kiss so full of fervour, Richie’s hands so broad and gentle.

It had been something they had dreamed about, wanted for so long, ached for, and yet now it was happening, it was overwhelming. Still, it was incredible. Frightening, but incredible.

Eddie whimpered, his face contorting with conflict. ‘Richie…’ he whined, dragging his hands up Richie’s back and pulling him down again.

Richie was relieved, sinking into the kiss, letting his chest lay flush against Eddie’s. When Eddie’s tongue met his, he couldn’t help but moan happily into his mouth. Eddie’s hands dragged higher, raking through the soft, dark curls of Richie’s hair.

Richie burrowed his hands under Eddie’s back to haul him to sit up straight, Eddie’s chin tilting upwards. He let his own chin rock backwards so that Eddie’s lips began to graze his chin and then down his throat, across his collarbone and back again.

Eddie pulled away for a second, his eyes scanning the torso before him, the downy chest hairs, the angular shoulders, then the face, with its long nose and dappling freckles and stark jaw. Richie’s face. Richie, his best friend’s, face.

‘We really should stop,’ Eddie said, sounding strangled. ‘We’re friends, Rich.’

Richie locked his gaze, ‘But, do you _want _to stop?’

Eddie shook his head. ‘No,’ he admitted. ‘Do you?’

‘Fuck no.’ Richie said, kissing him.

‘I just don’t want things to be weird,’ Eddie made a face, ‘between us.’

Richie scoffed, ‘I think we’re already running a high risk of that whether we stop or not.’

‘So?’ Eddie repeated himself.

‘So?’ Richie hoped, and his hopes were answered, gleefully, with Eddie’s lips on his own.

Richie held Eddie so tightly he was worried that he might suffocate him, but Eddie wasn’t much bothered about breathing.

Eventually, they broke apart, the kiss slowing to a gradual, mutual stop. They exhaled heavily, foreheads propped against each other, eyes closed, endorphins surging through their bodies with ferocious, delicious gusto.

Eddie yawned as they opened their eyes.

‘Bored now, are we?’ Richie laughed.

‘No, I’m just fucking tired,’ Eddie said, chuckling. ‘Probably the least boring thing I’ve ever done.’

‘You fought a killer clown once.’ Richie reminded.

‘Okay, second least.’

Richie kissed his forehead. ‘Let’s see if we can get a couple more hours sleep.’

Eddie nodded, and Richie dismounted to his side of the bed. Their heads crashed onto the pillows with satisfying thumps.

Richie was smiling giddily; Eddie chewed absentmindedly at the inside of his cheek.

‘Rich?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Are we still,’ Eddie gulped, ‘friends?’

‘Well,’ Richie hesitated, then blurted, ‘I mean, yeah! Of course.’

‘Okay,’ Eddie said quietly, then more firmly, ‘I mean, good!’

Richie smiled, so Eddie did too.

‘I would say goodnight, but it’s the morning.’ Eddie said awkwardly, not knowing how to make the transition to sleep following this.

Richie bit his lip, then leaned over to press his lips to Eddie’s one final time. They moved softer, slower, and Eddie felt like a Salvador Dali painting, melted time and desert heat.

‘Good morning,’ Richie said, in a terrible Irish accent.

‘Good morning,’ Eddie said, his eyelids lowered disapprovingly.

They slept until Beverly burst into the room at eleven declaring that she and Ben had made pancakes, and immediately rose to go and eat.

Before he left the room, Richie looked back at the empty bedcovers and prayed that when they returned that evening, they wouldn’t pretend that the encounter had never happened. Little did he know, Eddie was praying for the same thing.


	4. Once or Twice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the morning fresh in their minds, neither Richie nor Eddie know what to expect when they re-enter their bedroom that evening.

_SUNDAY NIGHT_

Neither Richie nor Eddie knew what to expect when they came back to their bedroom Sunday night. They’d been stealing glances at each other all day, occasionally grinning, but they felt like they were on display with the other Losers around.

They became overtly aware of how their every interaction could be interpreted as flirtation, just how often they were expected to rib on each other, curse at each other, pair up together. They couldn’t look at each other for too long without blushing at the memories of the early morning; their minds swam with endless questions that kept them distanced from their environments.

Richie and Eddie changed into their pyjamas in silence and climbed into the bed. They lay beside each other on their backs, not touching, staring straight up at the blank ceiling as though it may suddenly inscribe the answers to the questions they weren’t facing.

Richie was the one to break the stillness. ‘Eddie?’

Eddie swallowed. ‘Yeah?’

Richie raised his hand to graze lightly at Eddie’s shoulder. ‘I can’t sleep again.’

‘Thank God,’ Eddie said, turning over and climbing on top of Richie, smashing their lips together desperately, hungrily.

Richie felt like he’d reached paradise. Eddie’s light, lithe form atop him, legs bent at the knee, arms pinned either side of Richie’s head, lips dancing over his face; he could hardly think of a time when he’d been happier, more excited, more intrigued.

They broke away and Eddie licked his lips. Richie still tasted of the mint from his toothpaste. ‘Richie,’ he started, uncertain if now was the best time to ask, but he felt that if he didn’t, he might explode. ‘What is this?’

‘I don’t know,’ Richie said, which was half the truth. He knew what he wanted it to be, what it was for him, but he didn’t know what it was for Eddie, whether they were on the same page.

‘What,’ Eddie tried again, his gaze spanning the contours of Richie’s body, ‘are we?’

‘We’re,’ Richie frowned, ‘still friends, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘I’m not _worried_, I’m just asking,’ Eddie said quietly, then kissed him again. He kissed across the freckled cheek to Richie’s ear, behind it and down the tendon taut in his neck. ‘Do you have any other,’ he bit lightly, ‘friends,’ he bit again, ‘that you’ve done this with?’

Richie’s back arched, his nails digging into the skin on Eddie’s shoulders. ‘No,’ he said honestly. ‘Do you?’

‘No,’ Eddie said, moving to kiss Richie’s chest. The hairs tickled lightly under his chin and under his nose. He smelled like woodchips and fresh air. ‘Do you have any other friends that you’ve,’ he raised his head and kissed Richie’s lips, ‘_thought_ about doing this with?’

Richie had thought about kissing just about everyone he’d ever met. All the Losers, certainly. Several teachers. Other students. Even strangers at the mall. But it wasn’t the same as when he thought about kissing Eddie. Kissing Eddie was something he’d obsessed over, ritualistically, worshipping. And he’d not felt like that about anyone else.

He compromised, ‘Maybe once or twice. You?’

Eddie agreed, ‘Maybe once or twice,’ and it was accurate enough. He’d had a couple of fleeting crushes, people that he’d found attractive and wondered what it might be like to kiss them. He’d forced it a good few times too, when he looked at girls that Richie said were pretty, but it didn’t make him feel much of anything. The idea of kissing Richie, however, was pervasive, staking its claim of its own volition, and it always made his stomach knot.

After another deep kiss, Eddie asked the question he’d been building up to. ‘Have you ever thought about doing this with _me_ before?’

Richie figured at this point, he could probably start telling the truth. ‘Yeah. I have.’ His heart skipped a beat. ‘You?’

Eddie’s heart clambered into his throat and nestled there. Richie had thought about this. That meant he could admit, ‘Sort of.’

Richie’s brow furrowed quizzically. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, I had a dream once.’ Eddie’s cheeks coloured, and he wished he hadn’t said it, but it was out now, so he might as well continue. ‘So then I think,’ he stopped, ‘_thought_,’ he corrected, ‘about the dream, you know? So, I don’t know,’ he choked, ‘if that counts.’

The side of Richie that was Eddie’s immature, sex-obsessed friend was screaming, ‘_What happened in the dream? Tell me literally everything! I need to know!_’ but that side of Richie wasn’t in control at the moment. The side of Richie that was desperately in love, and even more desperate not to wreck his chances when they seemed promising for the first time in his life, said, ‘That depends.’

‘On?’

‘On what you thought of the dream, I guess.’ 

Eddie bit his lip, ‘It was weird.’ He’d woken up so confused. Confused, and most definitely fascinated. ‘But it was kinda okay.’

Richie drew Eddie’s lips down to meet his, ‘And the real thing? How does it compare?’

Eddie smiled, ‘It’s still kinda okay.’

Cocking an eyebrow, Richie asked, ‘What about weird?’ That was the key question. His heart thudded in angry anticipation.

Eddie spoke slowly, meticulously over-pronouncing each syllable in case he needed to change course halfway through the sentence based on Richie’s reaction. ‘It does not feel weird.’

Richie sighed with relief. ‘I don’t think so either.’

Eddie grinned and kissed him. It was only getting easier, freer and more careless, each time their lips came together.

‘Rich?’ Eddie murmured, tugging at Richie’s lower lip.

‘That nickname is growing on me.’

‘Have you thought about this,’ he blushed, ‘about _me_, a lot? I mean, before this weekend.’

‘You ask a lot of questions. Have you always done that?’ Richie sighed, kissing Eddie’s neck and making his toes curl.

‘Richie,’ Eddie pressed.

‘Yeah,’ Richie admitted. ‘I have.’

‘How much is ‘a lot’?’

‘A lot,’ Richie said unhelpfully, admiring the hickey he’d left on Eddie’s collar and wondering how furious Eddie would be when he noticed it. He thought it best not to mention it right now.

‘Come on, seriously.’

‘Seriously?’ Richie trilled his lips. ‘That’s not my strong suit.’

‘Rich,’ Eddie breathed, kissing his cheeks, featherlight and delicate, as though Richie were made of glass and could shatter at any moment.

It made Richie shiver. He locked Eddie’s eyes, open and daring, ‘When I’m with you, it’s all I can fucking think about.’

Eddie grinded down, ‘Fuck. Really?’ He kissed him, hot and messy. ‘Same.’

‘What?’

‘When I’m with you, it’s on my mind.’ Eddie clarified, ‘The dream.’

The two sides of Richie’s brain screamed discordantly again, one side desperate for the sordid details of Eddie’s subconscious lust, the other fawning for the sweet affection of Eddie’s conscious attraction. The romantic side won out again.

‘What about when you’re not with me?’ Richie asked. ‘Do you still, you know, think about it? About me?’ 

‘Sometimes.’ Eddie thought about the last time, when he was in the shower at home on Thursday night, hands trickling southwards, slick with water. ‘You?’ he asked quickly.

‘Yeah. Sometimes.’ Richie agreed, rather than saying every night, every morning and every time he saw a happy couple holding hands or sharing a sundae. ‘Quite a bit, actually.’

‘Recently, it’s been,’ Eddie paused as he searched for the words, ‘more intense, I guess.’

‘Intense?’ Richie repeated, enjoying the word.

‘Yeah, that’s why I’ve been a bit more, you know,’ he scrunched his nose.

‘Distant,’ Richie nodded, realising. He relaxed, knowing that it had all been for a good reason, that Eddie liked him, not that he’d done something wrong or put Eddie off in some way.

Apologetically, Eddie rambled, ‘I didn’t want it to be –’

‘I know how that feels,’ Richie said, before Eddie had even finished the sentiment.

‘But it just sort of,’ Eddie trailed off, losing himself in the mistiness of Richie’s eyes.

‘Is.’ Richie said flatly.

Eddie swallowed, his thumb tracing along the underside of Richie’s jaw. ‘It doesn’t really go away. I try, but,’ he shrugged.

‘I’ve stopped trying.’

They fell into each other, hopelessly and wonderfully, moving like one entity, symbiotic, as though they had always been two sides of the same coin, like the oxygen could flood out of Richie’s lungs and into Eddie’s and back again forever.

‘So much time together and we still waste time thinking about each other.’

‘You’d think I’d get bored of your trashmouth.’

With a guttural growl, Richie squeezed at Eddie’s waist. ‘I’ve found a better use for it,’ he said, then tugged at Eddie’s lower lip with his teeth.

‘Still managing to talk a lot.’

Richie grinned, ‘Would you rather I didn’t?’

‘No,’ Eddie exhaled, anxious desire running rife inside him, ‘Who knows what would happen?’

Richie’s blood flooded southwards. ‘Saying shit like that will make me shut up.’

They smashed their lips together with a renewed vigour and a new, darker, voracious edge. Richie’s hands slid downwards, toying with the elastic of Eddie’s trousers, testing the waters. Eddie showed no resistance, so he let his hands disappear down the front of the pyjamas.

‘Fuck, Richie,’ Eddie rasped.

‘God, I love hearing you say my name like that.’

Spurred, his breaths quickening, a veil of sweat shining on his forehead, Eddie’s hands fumbled to move below Richie’s waist.

‘Fuck, Eddie,’ Richie whimpered.

‘Oh, I get what you mean.’

It was exhilarating, terrifying, feeling simultaneously natural and alien, familiar and unfamiliar; fundamentally new and yet it was as though they knew each other’s bodies like their own. They tried to keep kissing through erratic, panting sighs; tried to sustain eye contact even as the sensation grew so intense that they couldn’t help but squeeze them tight; tried to remember every beautiful, perfect second even as they sped by in a whirl of timeless pleasure.

They climbed to the peak and descended together in a stream of curse words and keening, guttural sounds.

‘Fuck,’ Richie cracked. ‘Shit.’

‘Shit,’ Eddie whined. ‘Fuck.’

They broke into broad smiles, staring at each other, kissed and regulated their breathing, synchronised, chests rising high and falling.

‘Do you have,’ Richie started to ask, and Eddie nodded, leaning over to his bedside table for his fanny pack so that they could clean up. They giggled as they did so, taunting the other and snorting at crude jokes.

Lying beside each other once more, Eddie tensed. ‘So, that happened.’

‘Yeah. Fuck. That happened.’ Richie couldn’t believe his luck. ‘Eds?’

‘Yeah?’

Richie’s heart contracted. ‘When we wake up tomorrow, it’s not gonna,’ he stammered. ‘I mean, you’re not gonna pretend that this didn’t –’

‘No,’ Eddie assured.

‘Are you sure?’ Richie said uncertainly. ‘I kinda feel like I’m, I don’t know, in a dream.’ He laughed, ‘In your dream, maybe.’

‘I’m sure.’

‘This is –’

‘This is.’ Eddie nodded, knowing what he meant but unable to let Richie articulate it. ‘Are we still –’

‘Eddie, we are always gonna be fucking friends, alright?’ Richie rolled his eyes.

‘Okay,’ Eddie said quietly.

‘But,’ Richie added.

‘Yeah?’ Eddie squeaked.

‘We don’t have to _only _be friends. I mean, if that’s what you want.’ Richie felt his palms sweat as his mouth dried.

Eddie’s heart fluttered, but he didn’t want to let himself get unduly excited. ‘Is that what _you_ want?’

Richie clenched his jaw. ‘I want,’ he thought carefully, ‘to do this again.’

‘Me too, but like,’ Eddie tried to swallow the lump in his throat, ‘as friends or as…’ He couldn’t place the final word.

‘I,’ Richie shuffled, ‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, do you,’ Eddie puffed out his cheeks, ‘like me?’

Richie pretended he didn’t know what Eddie meant. ‘That’s a stupid fucking question. Of course I like you, you’re my best friend.’

‘No, Rich. I mean,’ he raised his eyebrows, ‘like _that_.’

‘Oh, right,’ Richie nodded, then quickly asked, ‘Do you like me like that?’

Eddie wasn’t fooled. ‘You didn’t answer.’

‘I didn’t.’

‘Why not?’ he asked, exasperated.

‘You didn’t either,’ Richie said defensively.

Frustrated, Eddie revealed, almost shaking, ‘I like you. Like that. I do.’

‘Oh, thank fuck,’ Richie purred. ‘I like you too.’

‘Really?’ Eddie smiled, his eyes sparkling like champagne, so much so that they looked as though they could bubble over.

Richie beamed at him, ‘God, so fucking much.’

Eddie kissed him, with all the innocent longing that had been pent up in the first one. That was all he needed to hear to relax. This was real, they were friends and they were also something else, something beautiful and gentle and honest. Richie liked him. He liked Richie. For once, everything had aligned perfectly. 

‘So, tomorrow, we go home.’ Eddie reminded.

‘Right. Home. Fuck.’

‘Do you want to –’

‘I want to,’ Richie leapt, not knowing or caring what Eddie had to say, because he was all in regardless.

Eddie scolded, smiling, ‘You didn’t let me finish.’

Richie winked, ‘Definitely let you finish.’

‘Fucking hell. Don’t make me regret this before I even fucking ask.’

‘Ask what?’ He thought all the questions had been answered.

‘Well,’ Eddie hunched his shoulders, ‘I was going to ask if you wanted to, you know, go out somewhere. Sometime.’

Surprised, Richie’s face lit up, ‘Really? Yeah,’ he coughed, ‘Yeah, I’d love to.’

Eddie hummed happily, then rolled onto his side away from Richie, pulling Richie’s arm over his waist. Richie’s chin nestled into the crook of his neck, their legs dusted against one another, their fingers neatly intertwined, like jigsaw pieces. As Eddie pushed his back flush against Richie’s chest, he believed he could feel the steady thump of his heartbeat.

Richie kissed the slope of Eddie’s shoulder. ‘How the fuck did we end up here?’

Eddie closed his eyes, ‘I think we might have been inevitable.’

Richie smiled, ‘I like that.’

‘Goodnight, Rich.’

‘Night, Eds.’


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Monday, and the Losers' weekend away has come to an end. For Richie and Eddie, everything is different.

_MONDAY MORNING_

Bev was helping Mike pack up the car with their luggage. In the kitchen, Ben was whipping up bacon sandwiches for the road. He’d asked Mike if he needed to make something else for Stan, but Mike knew that he wasn’t kosher. It wasn’t a long drive back to Derry, but they had school to get to.

‘Are the downstairs lot not up yet?’ Bev asked, her voice strained as she lifted Ben’s bag into the trunk.

Mike shook his head. ‘Do you want to give them another knock?’

‘Okay,’ she said, and jogged back inside. She dipped her head into Bill and Stan’s room first with a cheerful, ‘Are you guys up yet?’

Stan and Bill were almost dressed, though they looked groggy, like they hadn’t slept much.

Stan yawned, ‘Yeah, yeah. Nearly there.’

Bill sniffed, ‘D-do I smell b-b-bacon?’

Bev nodded, ‘Yeah, Ben’s making food for the road.’

Bill moaned, ‘T-tell him I love h-him.’

Stan shot Bill a look that Beverly didn’t see. She was too busy laughing and trotting over to the other end of the hallway to Richie and Eddie’s bedroom. She entered with a gentle, cheerful, ‘Wakey, wakey, rise and shine. Ben’s making,’ she started, then her mouth dropped open.

Richie and Eddie didn’t stir as Bev ran back to Stan and Bill’s room, snickering excitedly. She opened the door, ‘Oh my God, you have to come and see this. So cute, my God.’

‘W-what?’ Bill asked, but Beverly didn’t say, just vanished to the kitchen to hound Ben and Mike.

Stan furrowed his brow and exited the room. He trotted quickly down the corridor, silent, with Bill hot on his heels, and poked their heads into Richie and Eddie’s room.

Richie and Eddie were asleep in the middle of the bed, spooning one another, hands quite clearly linked together. Richie’s nose was buried in Eddie’s hair as he snored.

Bill smirked, ‘Well, well, well. You d-d-don’t see that e-every day.’

Stan shot him another look.

‘What?’ Bill whispered, then realised what Stan was assuming. ‘No,’ Bill refuted. ‘No w-way. They just f-f-fell asleep. M-maybe they were c-cold, I don’t know. This d-d-doesn’t mean anything.’

Before Stan could say anything to the contrary, the other Losers approached from behind them, crowding into the threshold to observe the rare sight before him. Suddenly, Stan felt like he was bird-watching: silent, motionless.

Between warm chuckles, Mike whispered, ‘Shouldn’t we wake them up?’

Ben wrinkled his nose. ‘They look so,’ he started, unable to finish his sentence with words that by definition seemed unattributable to Richie or Eddie, let alone together.

Finally, Stan spoke loudly, ‘Richie, Eddie, it’s time to get up.’

The sleeping boys groaned for a moment, then their eyes snapped open wide, comically large as they realised how compromising the position they found themselves in was. Richie, slowly, like an owl, twisted his neck to see just how royally they were busted.

‘Oh, fucking hell,’ he muttered, as his eyes were met by five other pairs clustered in the doorway.

‘M-morning,’ Bill said.

Releasing their embrace, the boys shunted up to lean their backs against the headboard. With a sigh, Richie said, ‘We’re never gonna fucking hear the end of this.’

Eddie didn’t say anything. He didn’t have words. He didn’t have the energy or mental capacity to come up with a joke, come up with an excuse or explanation. Brimming with anxiety, under the safety of the covers, he placed his hand in Richie’s and squeezed, to let him know that he wasn’t okay.

‘How did you sleep?’ Bev asked.

Richie blinked at her. ‘Brilliantly, thank you. Now, could you excuse us? We need to get dressed.’

‘Yeah, come on, guys,’ Stan clapped his hands and began to usher the other Losers away. ‘We’ve got to get on the road soon.’ He closed the door behind him. The Losers tittered, muffled as they returned to the kitchen.

‘Are you okay?’ Richie whispered.

Eddie nodded, but Richie could tell he didn’t mean it.

‘Hey,’ Richie squeezed his palm, ‘it’s alright. They just think it’s funny because they don’t know. They think that we’re Richie and Eddie, the guys who shout at each other all the time about the infectious diseases that I might have caught while fucking your mom.’

Eddie let out a half-hearted laugh and let his head drop onto Richie’s shoulder. Richie craned to kiss his forehead.

‘Thanks, Rich.’

Richie tilted Eddie’s chin up. ‘Let’s get dressed, okay?’ he suggested, then kissed him.

‘In a minute,’ Eddie said quietly, putting his arms around Richie and holding him.

‘Take as much time as you need,’ Richie said, and they both knew that he didn’t mean in this moment.

Eddie’s brow furrowed, ‘What about you? Are you saying that you’re,’ he leaned back so that he could study Richie’s reaction, ‘ready?’

The corner of Richie’s mouth lifted, his eyes lay heavy with love. ‘I don’t care what they think. I don’t care what anyone thinks anymore. The only one that mattered was you.’

Eddie wondered if he would ever feel that brave. Maybe. Richie had always made him feel braver than he ever thought he could be. He kissed him tenderly.

‘So, about that dream you had,’ Richie started, fingers dancing up Eddie’s arms. ‘How did that go, exactly? I’m dying to know.’ The immature gremlin in his head cheered.

Eddie hummed, ‘A little something like _this_,’ he said, pushing Richie down flat and pressing their lips together repeatedly, as Richie’s hands slid around his waist.

Then Mike walked in. He halted, expression frozen, unblinking, even as Richie and Eddie snapped apart from each other at the intrusion.

‘Uh, you probably should have knocked,’ Eddie said.

Richie spluttered into laughter, then clapped a hand over his mouth, ‘I’m sorry. Not funny.’

‘Close the door,’ Eddie hissed.

Mike did as he was told. He didn’t say anything, pressing his back up against the wood, eyes flicking between his two friends.

Richie and Eddie looked at Mike, then each other. Richie waited for Eddie to have a panic attack, but he didn’t have one. Eddie’s mouth twitched into a nervous smile and mouthed, ‘It’s okay. I’m okay.’

Richie exhaled and bit his lip as they turned back to Mike.

Mike found his voice. Low, he said, ‘I wasn’t expecting that.’

Eddie grimaced, ‘It would have been weird if you did.’

Mike puffed out his cheeks awkwardly. ‘So, you two –’

Richie glanced at Eddie to check one final time that he was alright, and with Eddie’s encouraging nod, he said, ‘Yeah.’

‘When?’

Richie’s lips smacked together, ‘You are finding out about twenty four hours after we did.’

Mike nodded, ‘Okay, so, new.’

Eddie agreed, ‘New.’

‘I mean, it’s,’ he paused, forcing Richie and Eddie to wait in petrified anticipation of his next words. ‘Great. Fuck,’ he laughed, ‘it’s really great.’

Trying not to cry, Eddie managed, ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ Mike insisted. ‘Of course!’ Then he coughed to quiet himself. ‘I’m happy for you.’

Richie grinned, ‘Thanks, man.’

Mike scratched his neck. ‘Okay, I’ll leave you to get dressed. But seriously, _get dressed_ because we really are pushing it for time and someone else _will_ come and hound you.’

‘Okay, thanks.’ Eddie said.

‘I know you wouldn’t, but don’t tell anyone else,’ Richie added.

‘Of course not,’ Mike assured. He went to open the door. Just before he pulled at the doorknob, he turned and said, ‘Love you guys.’

Eddie flushed, ‘Love you too, man.’

Richie got out of the bed and threw his arms around his friend. On seeing this, Eddie followed suit. Mike hugged them both, smiling softly.

‘Does this mean you’re going to be nice to each other from now on?’ Mike asked.

‘No!’ Richie cried.

‘Absolutely fucking not,’ Eddie shook his head.

Mike laughed, ‘Sounds about right. Okay, I’ll save you both a bacon sandwich.’ Then he left.

Eddie turned to Richie. ‘That went surprisingly well,’ he said.

Richie picked Eddie up off the floor and kissed him. ‘That went really fucking well. I’m so,’ he started, wishing he had the courage to finish the sentiment.

Eddie said smugly, ‘I’m proud of you too.’

Grinning, Richie put Eddie down and gave him one final kiss. ‘Let’s get a move on.’

They dressed and went out into the kitchen. They were running late. Stan was yelling at them both to just take a bacon sandwich with them, while Bill protested that he could not trust Richie with food in his car, let alone ketchup.

Ben and Bev were hurriedly finishing the washing up, flicking suds at one another and pinging rubber gloves. Mike took Richie and Eddie’s bags and loaded them into the trunk of the car, firmly slamming it afterwards.

Eventually, the two cars were loaded up: Ben, Bev and Mike in front and Bill, Stan, Richie and Eddie behind. Bev cranked up the music and their car crooned tunelessly all the way back to Derry.

Bill’s car was idle chat and commentary, staring out of the windows at the gorgeous countryside, bad jokes and worse insults.

‘Great w-w-weekend, Stan,’ Bill complimented. ‘Thanks s-so m-m-much for organising.’

Stan beamed at him, ‘Thanks.’

‘Best fucking weekend,’ Richie hollered, enthused.

‘Yeah?’ Eddie asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Richie smirked, ‘Yeah. Don’t you think?’

Eddie pouted, trying not to let his face break into a telling smile. ‘It’s up there.’

As they drove, Richie and Eddie bickered in the back seats and Stan felt like he was a tired mother driving his children to school. He snickered as that made him consider that Bill was his husband. He looked over at him. Bill’s face was screwed up, his eyes squinting into the rear view mirror. He realised Stan was looking at him and turned up the radio.

‘What?’ Stan mouthed, so that Eddie and Richie didn’t hear them.

Bill mouthed back, ‘Eddie’s neck.’

Stan cocked an eyebrow, ‘What?’

Bill rolled his eyes and gestured subtly to his own neck. ‘Look at Eddie’s.’

Waiting a moment so as not to arouse suspicion, Stan turned to glance at the boys in the back seat. It was faint, half-hidden by the neckline of his shirt, but there was a purplish bruise on Eddie’s collar. Stan’s eyes widened as he turned back to Bill, ‘Is that a hickey?’

Bill nodded, ‘Think so.’

‘What are you girls whispering about?’ Richie hollered suddenly, causing Stan and Bill to flinch.

‘Your m-mom,’ Bill said quickly.

‘Hey, that’s my joke!’

They pulled up at school and got out of the car. Richie grabbed Eddie’s bag as well as his own and pelted away, forcing Eddie to run after the faster boy, cursing furiously as he tried to corner him. Stan and Bill watched curiously.

‘Do you th-think that th-they –’ Bill started.

‘Maybe,’ Stan sighed.

Bill bit his fingernail. ‘Are we gonna t-try and t-t-talk to them a-about it?’

Stan shook his head. ‘They’ll tell us when they’re ready.’

Bill’s stomach churned. Ready. That word haunted him. ‘I g-guess,’ he said. Surreptitiously, he glanced over his shoulders and, satisfied that no one would see, least of all any of the Losers, reached out and squeezed a couple of Stan’s fingers. ‘C-come on. Let’s g-g-get to class.’

Stan snatched his hand away, nervous, but tried to smile at him.

Around the side of the school building, Eddie had finally tackled Richie to the ground to retrieve his possessions. They giggled uncontrollably, staggering back to their feet. Richie pushed Eddie up against the wall and kissed him.

‘You know, I could really get used to this,’ Richie smiled.

Eddie laughed, ‘I don’t think I ever will.’

Richie was about to lean in again, when his eyes flickered to Eddie’s neck. ‘Oh, shit,’ he said. ‘Forgot about that.’

‘What?’ Eddie asked, seeing the concern on Richie’s face.

Richie seethed, ‘I, sort of, gave you a hickey.’

Eddie’s eyes widened, hands leaping to the vulnerable skin of his neck. ‘What? What the fuck, Richie? Fucking hell! Fuck!’

‘I’m sorry!’ Richie wailed. ‘You bruise like a fucking peach.’

Eddie stomped his foot, ‘Not the time, Richie.’

‘You could borrow my jacket? That might cover it.’

Eddie slapped his shoulder, ‘Oh yeah, that’ll help. I have a hickey and I’m wearing your jacket. Why not break out the rainbow flags?’

Richie tried not to laugh at Eddie’s pinched cheeks. ‘Okay, okay, let me think. What about Bev? She might have some makeup that you can borrow.’

Through gritted teeth, Eddie said, ‘I am _not_ wearing _makeup_.’

‘Got any better ideas?’ Richie spluttered.

Eddie snapped his fingers. ‘I have a shirt. I have a shirt, I think.’ He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a checked flannel. He slung it over his arms. With the collar in place, the mark was concealed. ‘Does this work?’

‘It’s perfect. Now you look like a lesbian.’

‘Oh, fuck you. Seriously.’ Eddie frowned.

‘You can’t see it,’ Richie assured.

Eddie grumbled, ‘Okay. I cannot believe you gave me a fucking hickey.’

Richie licked his lips, ‘Calm down or I’ll give you another one.’

‘You wouldn’t dare.’

Richie grinned, ‘Is that a challenge?’

Eddie shoved him, and Richie threw his arm around Eddie’s shoulder. They walked to the lockers as they always did, they went to their homeroom, then to their classes. To the uninformed observer, it would appear as though absolutely nothing had changed.

Stan tapped his pencil on the front cover of his textbook. He glanced over at Ben, secretly handing Beverly the extra bacon sandwich he’d made for them to share. Just friends, they said.

He glanced over at Richie and Eddie, passing notes back and forth between rows. Every now and then, Eddie tugged at his shirt collar, concealing the hickey that he had seen. Just friends, they said.

He glanced over at Bill beside him, their knees knocking underneath the table. 

Just friends, they said. Just friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this epilogue chapter was a real joy and surprise to write and I got kind of intrigued by the idea of simultaneous Stenbrough/Benverly but everyone is secret dating - so I may write some companion/follow-on Stenbrough & Benverly fics with Reddie secret dating :) let me know what you think!
> 
> Check out the artwork by @vintagestay on tumblr that was inspired by this fic !

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments. If you liked this piece, I write exclusively for the It fandom and have a few other works on Reddie on AO3, am working on more and have also started working on some Stenbrough content, so check out my other stuff, or please feel free to send over prompts/suggestions :)


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